Native American Indians

A set of poems based on the theme of Native American Indians and their lost way of life. A celebration of their strength and character.
Sunset over Strood


The hooves are thundering so loud
As the bison race across the plain
A cloud of dust is billowing high
And soon the sky will turn to rain
The braves are racing now so fast
To catch the herd stampeding there so free
For food and clothing will be theirs
When some of them are felled just like a tree
The howling of the wolves can now be heard
Awaiting all the carnage to be run
And as the moonlight starts to glow
They’ll have their fill when all the rest are done
A vision that has been eternally
As man pits wits against the glorious beast
An honourable way to strive to live
With integrity on either side at least
So maybe as we all drive round in cars
With comforts that are always there to hand
We should now remember why
Respect should still be given to the land

Phil Sanders


The brave watched still and silently as the buffalo moved past
The chance to fill their bellies now approaching him at last
Across the plains the wind came thundering along
It whistled as it blew the scrub just like a plaintive song
As swiftly as the wind itself he moved with arrows drawn
The buffalo would die as came the morning’s dawn
A life so harsh yet beautiful in its own sweet simple way
No trivial pursuits for him for each long eventful day
The squaws awaiting patiently for the men’s return
The camp fires glowing softly with the woods unending burn
The children running free across the glorious land
So sad that other men came to take a devious hand
Without them they would still be free to roam across the plains
To feel the wind across their face and love the falling rains

Phil Sanders


The squaw knelt down beside the stream
The waters flowing fast
And let her fingers feel the cold
As the icy waters passed
The wind came rustling at her skirt
And gently blew her hair
The silence and the stillness
She didn’t have a care
Her beauty flowed across her face
Her eyes a sultry hue
The harshness of her life
Still felt so sweet and true
She felt the time amongst the plains
An honest worthwhile life
And didn’t worry needlessly
About apparent strife
If only time had stopped right then
And left them as they were
Within a distant time warp
Without todays sad cares

Phil Sanders


Said the Townsman to the Squaw
“Come ride away with me
To the bustle and the brightness
Of the town so full of glee”

Heard the Townsman from the Squaw
“I could not leave the land
For my spirit would die quickly
Without these sights so close at hand

Not to feel the fresh Plains wind
The ripeness of the land
The sun upon my back
My feet amidst the sand

The raging buffalo in flight
Their hot breath roaring free
The dustbowl of exuberance
The openness I see

The peace of wind in trees
The sparkling river’s run
Dreamy desolation
The burning of the sun

Canyons echoing footsteps
Exultation in the rain
Exhilarating horse rides
The freedom of the Plains

A log fire burning brightly
The glistening moon on high
Enraptured by the twinkling stars
So high up in the sky

The totem and the teepee
The vast unerring space
Navajos, Arapahos
All with time and grace

To feel enclosed within four walls
No space to breathe or weep
A claustrophobic tightening
I would never sleep

So leave me to my freedom
Under the open sky
Where nature breathes so simply
And eagles drift on high”

Phil Sanders


The brush sweeps across the open plains
As buffaloes do roam and graze
The keenness of the young Sioux braves
As longingly on their prey they gaze
Their bodies honed to fitness peak
Across the distance horses streak
With arrows flying death to wreak
Upon the buffalo so sleek
They catch their livelihood as one
And send their praises to the sun
For life again has now begun
Their daily needs now set and done
Across the valley work begins
For all the squaws as daybreak brings
Another round of daily things
And to the water they do sing
For as the sun breaks in the sky
And eagles soar above so high
They know not that the end is nigh
And just continue with a sigh
For white men’s greed will tear apart
Oceti Sakowin’s existing heart
Dakota and Nakotas part
Nevermore their fires to start
If only peace had reigned throughout
Lakotas left to hunt and scout
The sadness that was sent about
Had never claimed that awful rout
So dream Hunkpapa … Oglala
Happy hunting near and far
Beneath your ever wandering star
Sicangu and Sihasapa

Phil Sanders


Manuelito … Navajo … his face is etched with life
He wanted peace to prosper … and all he found was strife
His pride and his ancestry … meant he had to fight
Because the white man coveted … extinguishing his light

His people making beauty … in jewellery and weave
And only asked the freedom … that they always received
Enlightenment in years has lessened tyranny
For all they want is earth and sky … the chance of living free

Phil Sanders


The cold November wind bites deep inside
And in the tepee there the baby lies
Asleep within the handmade cradle low
His breathing slight and soft and slow
The squaw is wrapped up warm against the cold
Around her only those infirm and old
For all the warriors now must search the plains
Seeking out the food that they can gain
For winters blast is shortly to arrive
And they must work to make sure they survive
So harsh and bitter at this time of year
Awaiting spring and summer to appear
The price that’s paid for having freedom’s key
The work that must be done beyond the scree
The fires are burning bright within the night
A warm secure and deeply heartening sight
For life will always be so stark and clear
Throughout the varied seasons of the year

Phil Sanders


The Cheyenne stood still waiting … for the buffalo to move
The horse stood patiently by him … not a murmur from his hooves
The buffalo sniffed in the air … no danger did he fear
Until the shafted arrow … felled him like a spear
No complications in this life … survival … freedom … ease
A simple plain existence … with space to feel the peace

Phil Sanders


Sunkawakan ..sacred beast
Roams the Black Hills ….west to east
Running in the morning light
Manes all flowing … lovely sight
Searching all the windswept plains
Striding proud through all the rains
Spirits free …. just like the storm
Waking early with the dawn…

Phil Sanders

*(Horse ….sacred/holy dog)